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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514277">Song of Songs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkercrossedlovers/pseuds/starkercrossedlovers'>starkercrossedlovers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Religious, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Catholic Guilt, Catholic Imagery, Flogging, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, M/M, Masturbation, Religion Kink, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Self-Flagellation, priest Tony</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:22:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkercrossedlovers/pseuds/starkercrossedlovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who is this that appears like the dawn, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, majestic as the stars in procession?”</p><p>Peter knows his thoughts are deviant, that his desires are wrong, but maybe Father Stark can finally help him rid himself of these perversions...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Song of Songs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter kneels in contemplation, listening as Father Stark prays, voice low and solemn and strong.</p><p>“Forgive is Father for the sins we commit against you and your goodness. May your holy light guide us through the darkness of our existence and keep us from straying onto wayward paths.”</p><p>His eyes lift and meet mahogany ones, thick black hair tinted with silver swept back from a strong brow. Full lips curve into the faintest of smiles before being schooled back into spiritual solemnity.</p><p>Peter flushes at the brief eye contact; heat in his belly familiar and unwanted. He knows, this lust for the older man is wrong—sinful and dirty, but no matter how he fights it, how long he prays, abstains from touching himself, it persists.</p><p>Here in this small village outside New York he and Father Stark lead the people in daily worship, the community devout and close knit. They share a small house behind the church with the barest of essentials and decorations—but it is the company that makes it a home to Peter.</p><p>He was orphaned as a child and left with his aunt and uncle to raise before they too were taken by robbers who had broken into their home, searching for valuables to pawn in trade for drug money.</p><p>After that he gave up any idea of attending college and joined the church; giving himself up to a life of poverty wasn’t hard, he had little left to begin with. When Father Stark had seen his threadbare clothing and worn sneakers however, he had insisted on refurbishing his wardrobe with new clothes.</p><p>Peter had been stunned by the wealth of the other man, family money he had admitted, had tried to protest it being spent on him, but the older man had fixed him with a <em>look</em> and a firm <em>say thank you Peter</em> that had left him shaken and aroused.</p><p>It’s been three years since he joined the church, found his home, and every single one of those days has been filled with this desire for Father Stark. Peter knows men can lie together, can even marry and adopt children, but his faith tells him its wrong, so he hides his shaking hands when Father Stark rumples his hair playfully and smiles shyly when he makes jokes, praying the other man doesn’t know the depths of his sin.</p><p>The mass ends and as usual Father Stark hears confession while Peter cleans and tends to the needs of the church. When the church has emptied he gathers his courage and enters the confessional, coughing nervously.</p><p>“Hello Peter,” Father Stark greets, “Do you have a confession?”</p><p>Peter hesitates for a moment and then nods, watching as the outline of the priest turns toward him through the thin wall separating them. “Y-Yes Father Stark.”</p><p>“Well then, lets hear it.”</p><p>“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was three days ago.”</p><p>Father Stark makes a sound that might be laughter but then just murmurs, “Go on.”</p><p>Peter hesitates, swallowing hard around the fear in his gut and then spills the words out that have been stewing behind his teeth for weeks.</p><p>“I have lusted over another man Father, yearned for his touch and wept that I cannot be free of this sin. I have prayed and abstained from self pleasure, given my weakness to God and I-I do not know how much longer I can carry it.”</p><p>There’s a long moment of silence before Father Stark makes a soft noise and shifts behind the paper thin barrier. “Have you tried to place distance between you and this man?” he asks. “Sometimes it is easier to forget what we’re yearning for if it is removed from our vision.”</p><p>Peter buffs out a breath, tears making his eyes sting, “I-I cannot. He attends church everyday. There is no way to avoid him,” he confesses, feeling the lie burn on his tongue.</p><p>“Have you tried self castigation while pleasuring yourself?”</p><p>Peter gasps at the notion, cock swelling within the confines of his trousers. “N-no Father Stark,” he gasps, hands curling into fists at his sides, nails biting into the skin so he will not reach down and touch himself. “I wouldn’t know how,” he admits.</p><p>Father Stark makes a soft noise and there’s some shuffling before Peter hears a tap outside the door of the confessional and then more rustling as Father Stark retakes his seat.</p><p>“There is a flog outside your door. Would you like me to guide you?” he offers gently, kindly.</p><p>Peter flushes with hot embarrassment and arousal, warring with which he wants more—for Fatehr Stark to tell him what to do, or to hide away in shame in his room and manage this himself.</p><p>“I…yes, please Father Stark,” he whispers hoarsely.</p><p>Weak, he’s so weak.</p><p>“Very well. Strip to the waist and kneel,” Father Stark commands, the low hum of his voice sending a shiver over Peter’s body. He opens the door and grabs the flog before doing as he’s bid, shivering when the cold winter air nips at his exposed skin.</p><p>“I-I’m ready,” he says softly, eyes on the dark outline of Father Stark.</p><p>“Good, now, take out your cock and stroke it,” Father Stark commands, voice rough and unsteady and Peter wonders if he’s disgusted by this, horrified to find out his young assistant has perversion running through his veins.</p><p>He does as he’s told though, flog on the ground by his knee, waiting to be used. He’s hard, red and throbbing and leaking profusely and he’s shamed by the sight of it—wishes he could just be normal, be good and clean and holy like Father Stark.</p><p>At the first touch his breath stutters out and he bites back a groan—it’s been months since he touched himself like this, and the lack of stimulation has made him forget just how good it can be.</p><p>He strokes slowly, cheeks burning at the wet sound that eminates when he does. Heat burns in his belly and on his cheeks, shame and arousa fighting a holy war inside him.</p><p>“Good boy Peter,” Father Stark murmurs and the pleasure that shoots up his spine makes light dance before his eyes. “Now I want you to go slow, think about the man who you desire, and when you are close, take the flogger and strike yourself three times.”</p><p>Peter whimpers and nods, “Y-yes Father Stark,” he breaths out, soft and breathy. The older man shifts and makes a low noise but says nothing else as Peter continues to stroke himself.</p><p>There’s a long moment of silence and then Fatehr Stark speaks again, “Peter I’d like for you to describe what it is you want this man to do to you—airing the thought will help set them free,” he murmurs encouragingly.</p><p>Peter’s hips rock forward into his hand at the idea and he slows his strokes, the urge to cum growing in his stomach. “Y-Yes Father Stark,” he stutters, swallowing hard before obeying. “I-I want him t-to kiss me, up against the wall, p-pin me in place a-and ravage me,” he gasps, wincing in delight as his eyes fall shut and he imagines it—Father Stark’s body pinning him, lips caressing his skin.</p><p>“I want him to mark me, use his teeth to leave bruises on my skin so I can touch them later and think of him.”</p><p>His hand strokes faster.</p><p>“I want him to strip me bare and lay me on the altar, touch me there, on God’s table, feast on my flesh with his lips and tongue and teeth until I can’t breathe.”</p><p>His breathing growing shallow.</p><p>“I want him to tease me, tie me down and pinch my nipples till I scream, lick and bite at them till I weep and beg.”</p><p>Father Stark shifts, breathing faster. <em>Good boy</em> he murmurs, low and gravelly. Peter whines at the praise, hand fisting his cock harder.</p><p>“I want him to take my cock into his hand and suck the head, lick my seed from my skin and kiss me, so I can taste my sin.”</p><p>His cock spills more precum, the slide of his hand wet and loud as he breathes unsteadily, the scent and sound of sex filling the confessional.</p><p>“I-I want him to finger me, spit on my hole and spread it open till I’m stretched and loose and ready for him.”</p><p><em>Ah! </em>he cries, a shuddering moan rippling out as his chest arches, pleasure white hot up his spine. He hears a low groan and thinks it must be Father Stark, disgusted with him, and tears well in his eyes.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he babbles, still stroking himself.</p><p>“No, sweet boy, no. Tell me what else you want,” Father Stark demands, voice tight and low.</p><p>Peter sobs and continues, free hand reaching down unsteadily to wrap around the leather hilt of the flog, readying himself.</p><p>“I-I-I w-want him t-to fuck me!” he sobs, “Oh god forgive me! I want him inside me, making me his, making me cry his name and feel him for days after!”</p><p>He’s so close, so so close that it hurts and he sobs and continues.</p><p>“I want h-him to cum inside me, mark me, fill me! Fill me like the Holy Spirit, wash me in his cum and cleanse my soul. Oh god, please, Father Stark!”</p><p>His voice is high and pained as he strokes and then bunches as his release brightens behind his eyes. He raises the flogger and lashes it over his shoulder, screaming as white hot pain and pleasure collide.</p><p>His thighs clench as his hips rock up, cock pulsing so his stomach and chest and chin are painted with his cum as he lashes himself again, his howl of agonized pleasure echoing through the church.</p><p>His hand is a blur on his cock, the touch almost painful as he lays down the last lash, sobbing out Father Stark’s name, body glowing with ecstatic agony. White noise rushes in his ears as he collapses inward, flogger falling from numb fingertips as he holds himself up from the ground.</p><p>Arms suddenly surround him, strong and warm and a low voice in his ear brings him back to earth slowly.</p><p>“Good boy Peter, you did so well. Look how good you did my sweet boy. Oh, sweetheart, just look at you.”</p><p>His eyes open hazily, blinking away tears and he realizes there’s a hand on his thigh and another running up his chest, trailing through the cum before it lifts and moves past his head and he turns to watch, wide eyed as Father Stark licks his fingers clean.</p><p>The older man groans, eyelashes fluttering before he pulls his fingers free with a wet pop, eyes dark and hungry where they’re looking at him.</p><p>“I must confess Peter, I’ve been waiting for you to come see me for years. You’ve been so strong baby, but why don’t you let me take care of you now?” the older man offers, “Let me take you like you wanted.”</p><p>Peter stares at him, hope so bright in his chest it hurts. “You-you want me?” he whispers, nearly choking on the words.</p><p>Father Stark nods, grinning slowly, “Oh my boy, yes.”</p><p>Peter doesn’t know whether to be confused or ecstatic, and Father Stark must see it in his face because he tilts Peter’s chin and leans down till their lips are very nearly pressed together. “Do you want me?” he asks, smirking when Peter nods and gasps <em>yes.</em></p><p>His fingers at Peter’s chin tighten before his lips close over Peter’s and then he’s swaying into the priest, moaning as his tongue flicks into Peter’s mouth, seducing him with long slow kisses. When he finally pulls back Peter is gasping for air and gardening again. Father Stark smirks down at his cock and lifts his brow, “Why don’t I lock up and you wait at the altar,” he suggests.</p><p>Peter stares at him for a moment before nodding and watching as the priest stands, trousers snug against a significant bulge. He flushes and then hums happily when Father Stark’s hand fluffs his hair, tugging it gently before he steps out of the confessional.</p><p>Peter waits a moment and then adjusts his clothing, gathering his shirt and coat before he steps out and heads for the altar. He hears Father Stark finishing up locking the doors to the church and in a fit of daring, strips down so he’s bare and shivering in the cold air.</p><p>Father Stark eyes him hungrily as he stalks toward the sanctuary and the altar upon which Peter has displayed himself like an Old Testament offering. He wonders giddily if God accepts human sacrifice anymore, if the pleasure and release he’ll experience will be sin or salvation.</p><p>When Father Stark tugs off his tippet and wraps it between his hands with a growl, Peter shudders. Dark eyes pierce him as strong hands bind his wrists above his head; “Look at you,” Father Stark rumbles, “laid out like some pagan offering. Shall we worship at the altar of Eros Peter? Forsake all other gods except he?”</p><p>Peter whines as the rough fabric of his cassock rubs into his sensitive flesh, the polyester of the altar cloth burning into the hot flesh of his back. His cock twitches between them and Father Stark groans, rolling his hips into Peter so his clothes cock is pressed into his hip.</p><p>“Would you like me to do what you confessed?” Father Stark asks, stepping away to study him, and for the first time Peter can see the flogger tucked into his belt. His eyes dart to it, the action not unnoticed by the older man. He grins darkly, “Or would you perhaps like me to punish you? This can be a tool for pleasure Peter, would you like to see how?”</p><p>Peter’s scared, a little, but much more aroused and curious, so he nods. Father Stark groans and moves swiftly to kiss him, tongue hot and demanding before his mouth moves to leave red marks all over his throat. They bruise and ache and Peter whines, arching into the sensation as Father Stark licks at his nipple.</p><p>First one, then the other, switching between them as he sucks and bites and pinches, the sharp edges of pain and pleasure meeting over and over again.</p><p>Peter writhes beneath him as Father Stark slides down his body and grabs his thighs, pulling them wide before he leans down and—“Oh god!” Peter shrieks, bucking as a tongue licks into his hole.</p><p>Father Stark groans and holds him steady, licking and sucking at his rim until it softens, Peter’s wails of pleasure and sobs of delight echoing against the stone walls of the nave. When Father Stark pulls back and spits onto his hole, he mewls and arches toward him, a thrill running through him at the debasement.</p><p>Fingers press at his lips and he opens for them, eyes opening to find Father Stark watching him, heel of his hand grinding into his erection with a low, pleased sound. When spit runs down his chin Father Stark pulls his fingers free and immediately presses two against Peter’s spit slick hole.</p><p>He gasps and makes a loud, wounded sound as they slide in, stretching him until he sees stars.</p><p>“Look at you Peter, stretched out around my fingers, hole still hungry for more. What do you want, hmm? Another finger?”</p><p>Peter sobs and nods, arching when a third finger presses in, twisting and grinding into him until they find something that makes his head fall back with a crack against the stone of the altar.</p><p>He thinks of Abraham, ready to sacrifice his son to God and cries out deliriously to God, pleading with him for what, he knows not. He sobs as Father Stark’s fingers twist and push inside him, stretching and pushing against his insides in a deeply intimate way.</p><p>“P-please!”</p><p>“What do you want Peter? Tell me!”</p><p>Peter’s breath hitches at the command and he tries, tries so hard, but he can’t form words. Sharp, sudden pain sears across his hips and dances along his cock, cum pulsing out as the fingers inside him stroke against that spot.</p><p>“Tell me Peter.”</p><p>He sobs and another lash falls, agony and ecstasy inextricable intertwined. His cock jolts as the fingers inside him work harder and he peers through bleary eyes at the red marks on his skin.</p><p>Moaning, he shakes his head and arches toward Father Stark, tears rolling down his temples as he receives another lash, and this time he cums, painting his stomach white. There’s a rattling sound as the flogger hits the ground and then a zipper being undone and Father Stark’s breathing is loud, voice unsteady.</p><p>“You want my cock inside you sweet boy? Want me to fill you up? Anoint you with my cum?”</p><p>Peter nods breathlessly, whining when the fingers inside him slide out, only to be replaced a moment later with something firmer, thicker. Father Stark hitches Peter’s thighs up so his calves press against his shoulders and bends him in half as as cock presses in.</p><p>He moans, watching it slide in with a wet sound that makes his gut burn—it’s dirty and wrong and he loves it.</p><p>“Fuck! Mother Mary and Joseph, you’re so tight sweet boy.”</p><p>Father Stark curses and pushes deeper, rubbing a soothing hand over Peter’s chest as he whines—the stretch burns, but he aches for it, yearns to be filled by Father Stark. He gasps in hitching little sobs as the older man pulls back and then thrusts into him, the obscene slap of skin on skin loud in the silence of the night.</p><p>Father Stark rolls his hips, thrusting into Peter in deep hard strokes, one hand tight on his hip, the other holding his left thigh against his chest.</p><p>“Good boy Peter, you’re so beautiful like this, all spread out for me, warm and open and accepting. Fuck, I-I’ve wanted this so long baby,” he groans, thrusting faster.</p><p>Peter shudders at that revelation; whimpering as his soft, pliable insides stretch around Father Stark. “M-me too,” he manages to gasp, whining sharply when the older man thrusts hard in response.</p><p>The fingers of Father Stark’s left hand press into the marks left by the flogger and Peter whimpers, tears rolling out anew at the pain that washes over him, pleasure nipping at its heels when he grinds his cock into Peter.</p><p>He sobs, breathless as the huge cock inside him grinds deeper, his walls bruised and hot and so so deliciously stretched that he can’t breathe through the pleasure.</p><p>“God Almighty, oh Peter, I’m going to cum,” Father Stark gasps, hand tightening on his hip, “Come with my love, come on,” he encourages breathlessly.</p><p>He thrusts harder, hand leaving Peter’s hip to grasp his aching cock, and their combined moans swell and fill the church till Peter’s sure anyone passing outside will be able to hear them.</p><p>“Oh please! Oh Father! Ah! Ah! God!” he wails, nails biting into the palms of his hands as Father Stark groans and redoubles his efforts, hips slapping into Peter’s hard and fast. He twists his wrist at the top of Peter’s cock, nails of his other hand digging into the marks of the flogger and just like that, Peter’s coming.</p><p>He screams, vision whiting out as his hole clenches and spasms around where Father Stark fills him, and he’s sure he’s going to burst at the seams as pain and pleasure collide in a violent display of fireworks under his skin.</p><p>Father Stark cries out and spills hot inside him, hips stuttering as he curses and thrusts, moaning Peter’s name.</p><p>“Oh God, Peter, oh fuck yea, baby your ass is so good. So <em>tight</em>, uhn, <em>fuck</em>, I’m fillin you up baby. You feel me?”</p><p>Peter nods and sobs, breathless as Father Stark’s thrusts slow. He can feel his cum leaking out, the wet sound of his thrusts making his skin flush and his cock spurt weakly. Eventually Father Stark’s hands soften and his thrusts slow, the slow collapse of him on top of Peter as his limbs loose their strength happening before Peter realizes what’s coming.</p><p>Father Stark kisses him, slow and sloppy as he rolls his hips, once, twice, three times, a shared moan vibrating between them before his cock slips from inside him. Peter whimpers at the loss, hating the openness and the way the cold air feels on his stretched hole.</p><p>Gentle hands untie him and pull him into strong arms, both of them collapsing to the ground in a sweaty heap. They sit there for awhile, until Peter shivers and Father Stark’s breathing slows, and then to his surprise, the older man lifts him and sets him back on the altar.</p><p>“What—”</p><p>A kiss cuts him off and then hands guide his clothes back on, warm eyes smiling at him as Father Stark guides him to his feet.</p><p>“Let’s go home, hmm?” he offers, holding out his hand.</p><p>Peter stares at it for a moment, stomach churning with anxiety before he looks up and finds Father Stark smiling softly at him, gaze hopeful.</p><p>He nods, and takes the hand.</p>
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